[_LADY GIOVANNA moves slowly down stage, then crosses to chair, looking about her, bows as she sees the Madonna over fireplace, then sits in chair._ LADY GIOVANNA. Can I speak with the Count? ELISABETTA. Ay, my lady, but won’t you speak with the old woman first, and tell her all about it and make her happy? for I’ve been on my knees every day for these half-dozen years in hope that the saints would send us this blessed morning; and he always took you so kindly, he always took the world so kindly. When he was a little one, and I put the bitters on my breast to wean him, he made a wry mouth at it, but he took it so kindly, and your ladyship has given him bitters enough in this world, and he never made a wry mouth at you, he always took you so kindly—which is more than I did, my lady, more than I did—and he so handsome—and bless your sweet face, you look as beautiful this morning as the very Madonna her own self—and better late than never—but come when they will—then or now—it’s all for the best, come when they will—they are made by the blessed saints—these marriages. [_Raises her hands._ LADY GIOVANNA. Marriages? I shall never marry again! ELISABETTA (_rises and turns_). Shame on her then! LADY GIOVANNA. Where is the Count? ELISABETTA. Just gone To fly his falcon. LADY GIOVANNA. Call him back and say I come to breakfast with him. ELISABETTA. Holy mother! To breakfast! Oh sweet saints! one plate of prunes! Well, Madam, I will give your message to him. [_Exit._ LADY GIOVANNA. His falcon, and I come to ask for his falcon, The pleasure of his eyes—boast of his hand— Pride of his heart—the solace of his hours— His one companion here—nay, I have heard That, thro’ his late magnificence of living And this last costly gift to mine own self, [_Shows diamond necklace._ He hath become so beggar’d, that his falcon Ev’n wins his dinner for him in the field. That must be talk, not truth, but truth or talk, How can I ask for his falcon? [_Rises and moves as she speaks._